


Maturity Comes With a Cost

by Toby_Green



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Good Parent Joxter, Other, Snufkin feels overwhelmed easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toby_Green/pseuds/Toby_Green
Summary: So this was his son.Joxter knew this from his observations: He’s every parent's dream.He’s quiet and wise. He takes after both of his parents and made a wonderful life for himself in the valley. He’s bold and charming; adventurous and confident. In other words: perfect.But Joxter can’t be too happy. He is filled with dread that he simply can’t explain. Snufkin said and did everything right. Joxter couldn’t name a bad bone in his body. He looked happy. He had no problem with socializing and seemed to like everyone he came across. Still, Joxter felt something was off. Could it be a foreboding? Was Joxter predicting trouble in Snufkin’s future? But it was not like a headache, as most forebodings went. Instead he felt his stomach summersalting. Joxter thought it best to keep quiet on the subject until he could understand the feeling better.Before then he will get to know his son better.
Relationships: Joxaren | The Joxter & Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	Maturity Comes With a Cost

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic, so I hope it comes out alright. This was a bit of a vent, but I think it can be enjoyed by anyone. Sniff plays a key role, but I don’t think I made him annoying so you can get past it.

The introduction was awkward, starting off with Moominpapa’s memoirs and ending with the old Oshun Oxtra crew surprising the audience. As soon as Hodgekins opened the door, the room came to life. The Muddler’s son instantly screamed in excitement and ran into his parent’s arms. Mymble’s children flooded the ground, causing a ruckus through each open door. Joxter scoured the room before his eyes landed on a small boy dressed from head to toe in green. Snufkin stared back, paralyzed. Joxter couldn’t make out his expression. He made the first move, walking over giving his son the biggest bear hug he could manage with his small frame. Snufkin hesitantly hugged back. After a short moment he moved away. Joxter’s attention was now moved in the direction of a moomin greeting him. The party had finally commenced. 

The rest of the day Joxter attempted to talk to Snufkin on his own despite there being many guests gathered in Moominhouse. Everyone seemed very excited to meet new people and connect with old friends. The adults were excited to catch up on each other’s lives. The Mymble’s many kids flew about the floor screaming in delight. The older children spent their time around the adults. Snufkin, for example, was always found in large groups adding a few charming comments or sharing some stories about his travels. If he wasn’t doing that, then Snufkin could surely be found adding music into the backdrop with his small instrument. So this was his son. 

Joxter knew this from his observations: He’s every parent's dream. 

He’s quiet and wise. He takes after both of his parents and made a wonderful life for himself in the valley. He’s bold and charming; adventurous and confident. In other words: perfect. 

But Joxter can’t be too happy. He is filled with dread that he simply can’t explain. Snufkin said and did everything right. Joxter couldn’t name a bad bone in his body. He looked happy. He had no problem with socializing and seemed to like everyone he came across. Still, Joxter felt something was off. Could it be a foreboding? Was Joxter predicting trouble in Snufkin’s future? But it was not like a headache, as most forebodings went. Instead he felt his stomach summersalting. Joxter thought it best to keep quiet on the subject until he could understand the feeling better.Before then he will get to know his son better. 

At the end of that first day, everyone departed. Hodgkin took off back to his hometown claiming to have important work to finish.Typical for his character, but it was always nice to see the old fellow if not to just listen to the newest inventions floating around in the world. The Muddler and Fuzzy, on the other hand, went home with their son. The Muddler told Joxter that his son was also a collector of sorts. Joxter was happy for his old friend, he could not however be surprised that his relationship with his child worked out so well. It seemed like the Muddler could get along with anyone he pleased to be around. Mymble and her many kids left the house, off to visit her eldest daughter that also lived in Moominvalley.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, dear,” she said before leaving. 

“I never do,” Joxter lies. 

Mymble laughs and plants a wet kiss on his forehead. 

Joxter wanted to follow Snufkin but Moominmamma had kindly invited Joxter to sleep in their guest room. Joxter would of pushed off the offer, but then Moominpapa stood up and expressed his excitement to share his other stories. It was the perfect temptation for Joxter to make fun of the writer. It had also been so long since the two drunkenly critiqued literature so Joxter couldn’t bring himself to leave. Snufkin seemed long gone by that time, so there didn’t seem to be much fuss. The choice was quite easy to make.

The day after, Joxter‘s mind was fried. His head was pounding. Every second felt like an hour and every hour blurred into a second. It had been awhile since he had a hangover so bad, but that would not deter Joxter from his mission of meeting his son. In the end he found himself walking throughout the house all morning taking ailments from Moominmama and bothering Moominpapa. He had also enjoyed breakfast with the small family. 

It was midday when Joxter finally found himself out of the house and into the blinding light. It wasn’t surprising that Snufkin was not at his campsite that time of the day. Probably off in the woods, in that case. Joxter wanted to use his senses to find the boy but his head felt too dizzy. Instead he opted to explore the land casually noting any interesting trees he found. Joxter didn’t find Snufkin that day and he never returned to his campsite for the night.

The next few days were filled with the same fruitless searching. Snufkin was only ever found with the other kids in the valley off exploring an area or lost somewhere in the world that no villager could know of. It was quite impressive to the Joxter to see his son could leave no trace of his being on the trails he traveled on. Most scents seemed to be covered up and boot prints were shallow or twisting. His pathing was nonsensical and always left the mumrik more confused than informed. There was no point in finding Snufkin when Joxter pleased it, so instead Joxter looked at Snufkin's routine patterns. It took Joxter a couple of days to work it out, but on the fourth day he had finally done it.

~

The sun was just rising from behind the eastern mountains. The clouds above the purple mountains were a bright pink color. The first willows started to get up from their slumber and monitor the ground. The Earth seemed its most peaceful at this hour. The weather seemed just warm enough with a cool breeze. It was a beautiful day. Joxter’s spirit was high. He felt nervous this day, but that was no excuse to pass up the opportunity to meet his son. After all, Joxter has been waiting quite a while now for this opportunity.

The green tent started to unzip and a small mumrik crawled out of it. He was not wearing his green pointed hat, letting the morning world behold his matted mess on his head. Snufkin pulled a rod and a tin from his tent before going back in and pulling out his hat. Joxter took the moment to hop down from a nearby tree and slinking his way towards the boy. Snufkin put on his hat and turned around only to jump at the sight of a Joxter standing behind him. He was clearly not expecting the man to be there.

“Hullo Snufkin!” Joxter chirped.

“Hullo,” Snufkin pushed back. “I thought you were off to help Moominpapa chop firewood.”

Joxter tilted his head and smiled. “I much better prefer spending my morning with my son.” 

“That’s very kind of you to offer but I much better prefer spending my morning alone if that is not too inconvenient for you,” Snufkin positioned. He smiled something small back at Joxter. He then picked his fishing pole and bucket from the ground and walked away. The birds began to chirp above the young mumrik as he strolled off.

Joxter was left there watching him. Perhaps Snufkin wasn’t a morning person like he initially thought. Joxter was sure that he would be when the small Moomin talked about fishing with Snufkin some mornings ago. At that point it might’ve been helpful to ask the Moomins when it was best to see Snufkin. It never seemed to hurt to ask for help, and the Moomins were a very helpful family.

The old cat huffed. “I guess I don’t have a reason not to help Moominpapa.”

Joxter lingered to watch the young boy leave a little longer before he would leave himself. Suddenly the youngest moomin rushed out of the blue house in the distance shouting Snufkin’s name. Snufkin stoped for the other before both started to walk off together. How sweet it was see both Moominpappa and Joxter’s sons get along so well. He stared as the boys made their way off into the distance until finally they were gone from sight.

Hold on...  
Snufkin lied to Joxter. He stated the he wanting to spend the morning alone. Joxter felt like a fool. Now that he thought on it, Joxter did not so much as “offer” his presence as Snufkin suggested in the first place. Somehow Snufkin made his words definite unless one was to make themself rude. His words became set and stone the very second it left his mouth. Joxter was shocked to realize he had complied so freely with Snufkin's wishes without realizing it. The boy would have politely gotten away with the excuse too if it wasn’t for the young moomin’s abrupt entrance. 

Joxter questioned why Snufkin would lie to him about such a trivial matter? Could Snufkin possibly be trying to avoid Joxter? He never got the impression that his son disliked him. In fact, Snufkin was always very respectful towards him. Snufkin could hold a strong and interesting conversation with his father whenever they had the rare chance of talking in the group setting the days before. But if Snufkin was avoiding Joxter that would easily explain why he was having such a hard time finding the boy by himself the days previous. That would also explain why Joxter was having such a hard time finding a trace of him in the forest. All of a sudden the boy seemed a bit too clever. Joxter wouldn’t the playing a part in Snufkin’s game any longer. 

A big, pestering part of Joxter wanted to run after Snufkin and force himself into the boy’s life, however, the prankster part of himself said he can do something better. Snufkin hadn’t realized his mistake. This meant he wouldn’t expect any big changes in his life any time soon. Joxter laid himself on a daisy flower bed. Revenge’s sweet smell pulled him into a sleep full of schemes and ideas. 

~

“I’ve never seen Sniff so happy!” 

Moomin and Snufkin were walking back to Moominhouse with a bucket full of water and two fish swimming about in it. The morning seemed to go by fast as Snufkin laughed with his bestfriend. It was nice having Moomin along. He always seemed to appreciate the silence with Snufkin, something most would despise. They caught less than what Snufkin expected but that wouldn’t matter much. Snufkin was only half listening to Moomin. His main focus was on their matching steps. Snufkin’s left foot was in sync with Moomins right; Moomins left with Snufkin’s right. Snufkin thought about each inside step symbolizing their closeness and each outside step symbolizing their individuality. 

Moomin continued, “I’m happy to see him smiling so much.”

“I think this was exactly what Sniff needed,” Snufkin stated, still looking at their feet.

“What do you mean?” Moomin asked, turning to face Snufkin.

“Well... I think we’ve all noticed Sniff’s obsession with money,” Snufkin started. Moomin hums his agreement, looking forward. His eyes looked so bright today. Snufkin also felt very relaxed.

“I think he’s under the typical influence of ‘money can buy happiness’.” Moomin looked at his friend again. “He probably thinks that that’s how people start liking others and how people start to like themselves,” Snufkin explained. 

Moomin gave Snufkin a slow dumbfounded blink. Snufkin blushed in response. Maybe he felt a little too relaxed. “That is if he even ever felt that way to begin with... It’s just that it’s typical for orphans to feel a sense of little worth. They always want to prove themselves. You know?”

“Oh... yeah,” Moomin said unconvincingly. Snufkin tensed. His inside foot fell out of sync.

“Uh,” Moomin started after an awkward pause, “so how are things with you and your parents?”

Oh goodness, Snufkin must not have been subtle enough. He didn’t intend for his own words to fall back on him. To be honest, Snufkin was surprised Moomin picked up on the similarity. Snufkin wasn’t thinking of himself at all in that statement. Once again Snufkin tries to sync his feet. Only once his feet matched the pattern from before did Snufkin answer Moomin’s question.

“Well...” How was Snufkin going to explain this? “I haven’t really talked to Mymble. She’s a little wrapped up with all her other kids.” Yes; her many, many other kids, most of which competed for Mymblemama’s attention.

“Oh... and your dad?” Moomin asked.

Snufkin was hoping he would glaze over him. “He...” Snufkin licked his lips. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to him yet, but Joxter seems fine.” 

“You call your parents by their first names?” Moomin asked nervously.

Snufkin was ashamed that he immediately felt offended. It felt like someone was prying into Snufkin’s life and judging his choices. Of course, Moomin doesn’t mean to do such a thing, so instead Snufkin quickly responded with, “Sure. They’re not my caregivers. They are more like acquaintances now.” The answer seemed short and sweet. No harsh feelings and no need for pity.

“Oh Snufkin! I’m sorry!” Moomin whined.

No! Why did that make Moomin sad. Snufkin had to think fast.

A smoky chuckle escapes his throat. “No, don’t apologize. I prefer it this way. I really can’t imagine myself with parents. They would just constrict me.”

Moomin still looked concerned but doesn’t comment anything else. The mumrik took it as a success. The two boys continue walking; this time in silence. Snufkin really didn’t mind it. He wanted to clear his head of everything. When they made it close enough to the house they Moomin gasped. Snufkin looked up and found the source of surprise. Dark smoke signaled near the river. “Oh no! Do you think there’s a fire,” Moomin worried.

Snufkin doesn’t answer Moomin’s question, he just put down his bucket of fish and ran towards the smoke. Close behind him, Moomin’s stomping followed at a close pace. The closer they got to the cause, the clearer it became to them both that the smoke was coming from Snufkin’s campsite. Snufkin quickened his pace. When they finally make it to the area, they’re both panting. Snufkin regained his breath first and looked up. He was stunned; stands very still, staring off.

“What is it?” Moomin asked between heavy pants. He looked forward and immediately noticed what had Snufkin pause. Snufkin’s campsite had been completely taken over! His tent is positioned deeper in the woods, near a wild bush. Dead grass was roofing the canvas. In the tree surroundings there hung dead rodents on branches. Feathers and fur littered the ground near the trunk of the trees. Multiple small boulders and logs were thrown about the places where plants were less populated. But most importantly, a musky old vagabond was sitting near a fire burning a field mouse to a crisp. 

“Hullo again, son!” The vagabond shouted. “I thought I would make myself at home since I’ll be staying here in Moominvalley for a couple more days!” The Joxter’s voice was peppy. “How would you like some breakfast, boys?”

The eldest mumrik flipped the mouse on the fire. It looked to have been chewed on already. Moomin squirmed around uncomfortably. He look horrified.

“Uh, hello Mr. Joxter! I’m afraid I can’t stay for breakfast because Mama is expecting me,” Moomin tried. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Of course, young Moomin,” Joxter cackled. “But you, Snufkin, must sit down and eat before you go anywhere today.”

Snufkin’s hands balled up into fists, clenching and unclenching while the rest of Snufkin became ever more still. His legs felt like a mountain planted onto the earth. His head crashed like the shore. The rhythm of his fingers to his palms were the only thing grounding him to reality. Moomin noticed his friend. “Don’t worry about the fish, I’ll take care of it,” Moomin offered, “ enjoy spending time with your dad.” Moomin gave his friend a kind smile at Snufkin’s furrowed expression then hurriedly makes his leave.

Joxter and Snufkin stay silent until the white figure was out of sight. Joxter continued poking the dead mouse; Snufkin just continues starring. 

“I don’t remember inviting you to stay with me,” Snufkin broke the silence. He walked forward, sit on one of the newly scattered rocks outside of his campsite.

“That is the expectation when a parent shows up to surprise their child,” Joxter trilled. 

He plated the mouse and handed it over to Snufkin. It’s practically charred to ashes. Snufkin sneered at the plate given to him. “I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t eat?” Joxter questioned.

Snufkin cringes. Joxter was clearly trying to get on his nerves. Snufkin doesn’t want to play along with the game, but he also felt like he couldn’t refuse the meal. Many people have express their concerned about Snufkin’s diet in the past. He always makes it a point to eat all that is offered to him to avoid that worry. Denying any food would only make them push more aggressive and get into Snufkin’s personal business. That was the last thing he wanted. Snufkin was not a picky eater, so the concern was always quite confusing to him. He settled to assume most folks look at diets as an energy source for the day. They might correspond a full belly with the mental energy to get up that day. It was not uncommon for adults to pester Snufkin about getting a good meal in each day. Still, it made Snufkin very uncomfortable.

Joxter acted as if he knew about Snufkin’s fear, but how could he? Snufkin started to sweat. 

“No.” Snufkin took the small animal into his palm. He felt discussed with himself. He placed the rodent upon his tongue. It was too chewy so Snufkin opted to swallow the mouse whole. He gulped the mouse. It didn’t go down easy but Snufkin managed. When the animal was cleared from his throat he realized the char from the animal had replaced saliva. He started to have a coughing fit. 

Joxter frowned. “Oh dear, perhaps I did cook it for too long.” He offered a canteen. “Drink some water with it, small love.”

Small love?! The words made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. He took a swig from the can, clearing his throat before he spoke again, “I do think I can manage my own meals from now on, thank you.”

Joxter’s frown deepened, “I would like to share our meals like a family instead.”

The words burned Snufkin. A lump formed in his throat, this time not caused by the mouse. His mind filled up with red noise. 

“I don’t think that makes very much sense now,” Snufkin spat back. He desperately tried to hold back his rage. “I am NOT a child.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I am still your father,” Joxter calmly stated. 

“I don’t care who you are,” Snufkin’s voice is small but heavy. He held his tone, forcing it to stay proper in his blindness. “I am still my own decider.”

“That will never stop me from caring for you, Snufkin,” Joxter demanded!

Snufkin couldn’t reason with this man! He was completely out of place! At that point Snufkin couldn’t compromise and definitely couldn’t speak another word without saying something he would inevitably regret. He suddenly felt very overwhelmed. He felt trapped, but Snufkin was also reminded of where he was. So Snufkin did what he does best. Snufkin stood up from his seat. He looked off to a clearing of trees, and walks off. He had always known that in these moments he was better off creating distance. He could always resume the conversation when his mind felt more logical and not so emotional, later.

The Joxter doesn’t say another word to him as he walks away. Snufkin had found that most folks don’t know how to react to such a strange response. A form of shock, Snufkin presumed. 

~

To say Joxter was shocked was an understatement. A part of Joxter was scared, and another, amazed!

Who was this kid to act so formal and mature while throwing a tantrum!

Snufkin hated that Joxter had told him what to do. He kept fighting him for control. Joxter thought his son was more mellow than this. But here he was, livid about having his meals with his old man. Joxter laughed at the fact that Snufkin couldn’t handle his trickery given back to him. Don’t dish out what you can’t take back, Joxter thought.

On the other hand, Snufkin seemed to get more irritated after Joxter tried to reassure him. Joxter notice Snufkin getting bothered at seemingly nothing. He didn’t intend to annoy his son that much. Joxter’s reign-in had no effect and infact seemed to make the boy more frustrated. Snufkin started to close in on himself. That was what made him concerned.

Joxter laid on a branch in a tree, swinging his limbs from side to side. He spotted his fifth bee in the butterfly field beneath him. It landed on a small white flower. A wood anemone, as Joxter identified. The shade on him provided by the leaves and the warmth of the day made him lazier that day. Small pockets of sunlight drizzled onto his back. The mumrik’s tail rhythmically swung clockwise. The birds chirped above him. The leaves tapped against each other with each gentle breeze; Joxter could only imagine the caterpillars holding on to dear life each time they swayed. Joxter was quickly lulled into a half sleep.

It had been a couple of hours since his run-in with Snufkin. The kid probably didn’t want to be found. So here was Joxter giving him his space. 

Joxter cared a lot about his one and only child. When he first heard about his son by word of Moominpapa’s letter, he was ecstatic. A child of his very own! Joxter insistently gushed about meeting Snufkin to Mymble. He talked about him for many days after. There was no doubt in his mind; Joxter instantly knew he wanted to be in his son’s life. Joxter was prepared for the initial tears and distrust. He was ready to make up for the lost years. He expected Snufkin to hate him and he would have to win his son over somehow. 

But that never happened. Snufkin was fine, so Joxter also presumed everything was fine. Perhaps that was what was upsetting Joxter earlier. His son treated him how he treated everyone else. Snufkin acted indifferent to having Joxter in his life. Snufkin was only really resistant to having Joxter as his father. What a sad thought. Joxter should not think so much. He doesn’t have enough evidence to prove such a point so why believe it. Snufkin should talk for himself. 

Looking back, maybe his prank went a little too far. He should give Snufkin some control and allow him to make dinner that night. Hopefully that would make the boy more comfortable around him. Should he put back the campsite the way it was before? Yes, Joxter thought just before dozing off.

~

Snufkin didn’t know what to do. He had been trying to control his anger all day with very little success. The sun had set close to half an hour ago, meaning Joxter should be making his debut soon to have dinner. He should be at the campsite any second now. Snufkin tried everything he could to push his temper down. He took a difficult hiking trail, he climbed multiple rock surfaces, he even tried hitting a tree. But nothing seemed to work. The anger went too deep and his mind would not let him forget it. Snufkin would have to confront his father, but he still had very little idea as to how he should go about it. Snufkin was very bad at yelling. Snufkin has always lost his voice in his throat before being able to scream. It always made him feel weak. 

Snufkin couldn’t argue with his dad, but he also didn’t want to tell his dad off. The thought of never seeing him again made Snufkin lightheaded. However, he also didn’t feel comfortable with having a father, no matter how much they cared. Something about a stranger having a free pass into his life did not sit well with him. What Snufkin finally decided on was telling Joxter he had to treat him as an adult. It didn’t feel good to think about, but it would be a first step to making a healthy relationship with his long lost father. Progress is progress.

The fire in front of Snufkin crackled. A white log popped and with it a glowing speck was released into the sky. Cooked fish wisps through the cool summer night air. It looked about done. Snufkin plated his dinner on a cooked potato he rolled out of the fire earlier. Everything smells incredible. Snufkin was a much better cook than his father. He threw a couple of cranberries onto the skillet to make a sweet sauce. The berries roll about in the fish oil. Slowly they turn it purple.

“I see you’ve redecorated,” a voice observed.

“Can’t say leaving dead animals up in the trees would ward off bears, sadly,” Snufkin joked.

“Ha! Well you got me there.” 

Joxter made his way out of the thickets. “That smells good.”

“Hm,” Snufkin hummed in agreement, still looking at the berries that have now turned gooey.  
“Sit down, I made you some,” Snufkin lifted up a full plate to Joxter. 

“Mm!” 

Joxter took the plate and sat down next to Snufkin. The boy covered his meal with a berry sauce then he proceeds to cover his own plate with the same thing. 

Joxter didn’t waste time eating the meal. While Joxter was consumed with it, Snufkin took the moment to observe himself. Contrary to before, he couldn’t feel an ounce of anger on him anymore. He isn’t foolish enough to think it was gone, however. Something hot and feral brewed underneath him. At least the concealment would make the conversation easier for him.

Snufkin took a bite of the food, the flavor flooding his mouth. He took the time to taste everything before he began talking.

“About earlier,” Snufkin started. He paused, but talked again soon afterwards to prevent his tongue from tying up. “I should tell you I’m not very comfortable with you treating me like a child.”

Snufkin’s entire face felt hot as blood rushes to his cheeks. Snufkin tried focusing on his meal. Stay casual, he thought, tossing around his potato mush. His ears were intensely focused on the Joxter.

“Yeah,” Joxter started, clearly also feeling awkward. “I’ll try my best to not, then.”

A gross silence filled up the space. Thank goodness they both had something in front of them to bother with. 

“It really isn’t bad!” Joxter said after a while.

“Thanks.”

Another long silence. No! Snufkin didn’t want to kill the conversation like that.

“It’s a little bigger than usual, harder to make, but worth the energy when having guests,” Snufkin tried to open the doors up again.

“What’s the usual?” Joxter asked.

“Either stemmed fish or whatever I can scavenge in the forest during the day.”

“Sounds small,” Joxter said.

Snufkin doesn’t appreciate where the conversation was going. He wanted to get Joxter’s mind off of the subject. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers. You’re a traveler, too, right?”

“Yes, but I can still get a decent meal,” Joxter mumbled.

“I’m curious. Where you have gone in your travels,” Snufkin seamlessly drifted the conversation back to safe waters.

Joxter took a while to answer but Snufkin stayed patient. “I’ve found myself in Greece once.”

“How was that,” Snufkin questioned.

“Gorgeous. Colors just seem more intense there.” Joxter chuckled, “I had a goat butt me off a small cliff there.” 

“Sounds fun,” Snufkin implored. 

“It was. Most of the towns had buildings perfect for scaling. It makes for an easy getaway. Lots of mumriks there.” Joxter shoved another fork full of potatoes into his mouth. “Hm. Other places aren’t so mumrik-friendly.”

“I know. I’ve had my own run in with hemulans,” laughed Snufkin.

“I once had an old hemulan man chase me all the way out of Estonia.”

“Really? What could make him that angry at you?”

“Nothing at all! I only took a boot knife. That’s it. The man had hundreds of them!” Joxter exasperatedly explained.

“Ah, well that would do it. Never mess with a hemulan’s hobby,” Snufkin stated.

Joxter’s eyes widen in realization. “Well, that does explain it, then.”

“I once had a hemulan lady twist my arm pretty bad after telling her off,” Snufkin said.

Joxter looked at the boy strangely. “Why in the world would someone do that!”

“I told her how to mother her kids.”

“That still doesn’t make sense to me.”

“I noticed her handling her kids roughly at a market. She was saying some pretty scary stuff to the kids as well. They looked miserable, so I told the lady exactly what I thought.”

Joxter stayed quiet, his face hidden beneath his hat. Snufkin went on, “She started getting pretty mad and eventually went to grabbed me.”

“Did you try running away,” Joxter asked darkly.

“I couldn’t leave those kids with her. If she was willing to grab a random kid in public, I didn’t know what she would do to her own kids at home.”

“How old were you?” Joxter looked up at Snufkin worriedly. 

“I think I was around fourteen or fifteen. The other kids looked to be about my age as well.”

“Why didn’t you try running away?! She could of really hurt you!”

“She could have really hurt them, too,” Snufkin started back.

“YOU were just a KID! You should have told an ADULT!” Joxter was furious.

Snufkin hated it when others yell. It was completely unneeded made him feel helpless, but Snufkin couldn’t back down on this type of topic.

Calmly, Snufkin said back, “Remember how I asked you not to direct me as a child?”

Joxter stared at him dumbly. “Wha-,” Joxter shook his head madly, “don’t try to be a hero! You could get really hurt doing that sort of thing!” He continued yelling.

Snufkin, again, countered him with a soft voice. “I knew that at the time and I still choose to do it. I would want someone to do that for me too if I were in their position.”

“DO YOU NOT CARE IF YOU GET HURT!” Joxter lost his temper.

“I don't,” Snufkin stated as matter-of-factly as he could.

This put Joxter in his place. All the anger seemed to evaporate out of him. He was left looking sadly at Snufkin. The fire flared low, but it didn’t matter; both of the creatures have good night eyes. Joxter’s plate was empty; Snufkin couldn’t finish his. 

Snufkin understood why it was a problem. He didn’t like that he doesn’t give much worth to himself. ‘...it’s typical for orphans to feel a sense of little worth.’ His own words echoed in his mind over and over again. Snufkin felt embarrassed that he messed the relationship up already. Joxter really did seem to care about him, but Snufkin finally found himself thinking that he just wasn’t lovable anymore. He was too broken. He couldn’t act like a kid for Joxter. Snufkin had worked too hard his entire life trying to become more mature to protect himself from the world. 

He’d gotten pretty good at it, too. People always complemented Snufkin on that accomplishment. It became Snufkin’s only praise. He only ever got attention from adults when people noticed the unusual behavior for his age. He gained respect. In some way, it was the only type of love he ever received.

It was different for Moomin. Moomin always knew he is loved. Even when he made mistakes, Moomin was loved unconditionally by his parents. Snufkin always wanted that strong emotional foundation to lean on. People like him, who don’t have it, either avoid life’s challenges or walk into them with very little caution. Just like Sniff, and just like Snufkin. 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t care’,” Joxter asked through a wavered voice. His voice was very quiet now.

“I..” Snufkin tried but his throat closed up. Suddenly Snufkin couldn’t see very well in the dark. 

~

Tears ran down Snufkin’s face. 

His son, the confident and ever wise traveler, didn’t care if he gets hurt. Does he care if he gets sick… hungry… sad? An intrusive thought crossed Joxter’s mind. 

“Are you okay?” Joxter was barely able to get out. His eyes started to well up. 

“I… I don’t want to d-die,” Snufkin reassured, shuttering through the tears. “I just have a har-d time putting myself fir-rst.”

A strange wave of relief washed over Joxter, but fat tears still managed to escape his eyes. His son looked miserable. Snufkin desperately paws at his eyes trying to stop his tears. Hiccups sound from him indicating his uneven breathing. Joxter desperately wanted to hug him but he wasn’t sure if Snufkin would refuse it and he would end up making him even more upset. The dying fire reflected the rolling water down Snufkin’s cheeks. Joxter realized that his own cheeks were soaked.

Joxter was always a risk taker. He always thought about doing the uncommon. As long as he had the right intentions at heart, he believed he would be forgiven if he did indeed end up making a wrong choice. With that in mind Joxter took action. Steadily, Joxter gathered up his son into his arms. Snufkin tensed at the unexpected touch. Joxter feared he made the wrong choice, but then Snufkin relaxed. The boy leaned into his father’s grasp, still sobbing. Joxter laid his head on his son’s as he allows himself to cry, too.

“I care. I will always care about you, Snufkin,” Joxter choked out. Snufkin was sobbing loudly, hopelessly trying to silence himself to no effect. Joxter just held him tighter. Joxter was afraid at first that Snufkin hadn’t heard him, but then the softest voice replied.

“I love you, D-dad.”

His son’s words melted his heart.

“I love you more than you could ever know, Snufkin.”

They stay wrapped up to each other for a long while longer, both sniffling and letting their tears hit the ground. Eventually, though, Joxter made the move to settle back. He looked at his son’s red-beaten face. He wiped away a tear about to fall, then smiled at Snufkin. It was a small smile, but a smile that read ‘we are going to pull through’. Snufkin gave a small smile back. 

In a couple of minutes, Snufkin had finally calmed completely down. Joxter thought it was time to lighten the mood a little. “Do you think I scared Moomin off with my mouse earlier?” 

His son chuckled. “I think he was more unsettled by the animal lanterns you strewn around.”

Joxter gave off a hearty laugh.

Joxter hummed a tune, swaying softly with his boy in his arms. The song was soft to the ears. Something private. Joxter swung his low notes into the upper octaves then mellowed out when the tune started to drag. Snufkin was so tired. He was brought into the world with no protection. No guidance. He fought long and hard to do what he believed was the right thing. He fought to justify his existence. He should know his father is proud of him. That he deserves his father’s love. That he had it without a doubt.

“You look exhausted,” Snufkin mumbled. 

“So do you.” Joxter looked around at the embers and dirty plates. Snufkin seemed to understand what he was looking at. “I’ll take care of everything. You go to sleep now.”

Snufkin hesitated, thinking about tugging for control yet again, but ultimately his tiredness won out and he went to bed without protest. The tent zipped up with the boy in it. Joxter waited until he heard Snufkin settled into his sleeping bag before he gathered the dishes. He made his way to the river nearby. Snufkin’s unfinished food was consumed by his father. 

Joxter dumped the plates into the water and dragged his hand across it in a circular pattern. The water was freezing on his skin. He could feel the currents surrounding his arms, tempting him deeper in. The sound of the flowing water put Joxter at ease. When he was satisfied with his cleaning, Joxter dunked a bucket in the stream and walked back to the smoldering lumber. He poured out the water on top of the flames, putting them out completely. Grey smoke raised above the wood, reaching for the sky. Joxter looked up at the rising gas.

He noticed the stars twinkle above him while the moon washed forward Joxter’s shape. Joxter couldn’t imagine the night sky as a tune. Nothing could describe the busy traffic of colored stars in the swallowing darkness. Nothing could describe the vastness of an ever-changing picture. Everything was so far away, but yet close enough to name. He noticed the sounds of the crickets chirping across the land. Some toads occasionally croaked about their existence in the middle of the choir. He could hear small creatures scraping the underbrush, looking for a meal. Small light bugs ducked in and out of the forest. Joxter wondered if there was a sneaky fae in the mix. Joxter decided to spend the rest of the night stalking around the forest, until he was tired enough to lay by the base of a tree near Snufkin’s tent. No thoughts come to him.

~

The wave crashed against the rock, misting the friends with sea salt. It was a dark day out, the clouds just holding back rain pour. Moomin pointed to driftwood in the water. Snorkmaiden looked out to where he was pointing. She remarked about a glittering starfish aboard it. Little My didn’t pay any mind to the commotion, instead searching the rocky shores for sea glass. She picked up a green object and inspected it. She decides it was sufficient enough and shoved it into her dress pocket. Snufkin stayed sitting on the rocks playing-by-ear a song he heard once on his instrument. The melody rung in the ocean breeze, the sound traveling across the beach when laughter suddenly sounded in the distance. The tune died off and Snufkin pocketed his instrument. 

It was Sniff along with his parents. All four friends found themselves making their way off the shore rocks. Little My took no time to hop down them. Snufkin however took his time making sure not to slip on the wet stones. Moomin, being the wonderful climber he was, was off the rocks before Snufkin. He helped Snorkmaiden down the last boulder near the end. The voices got closer and so did the appearance of three figures. The Muddler and Sniff were carrying three suitcases while The Fuzzy carried a small blue cake. 

“Ah, there’s Mama and Papa,” Moomin spoke.

And he was right. Two moomins were seated on a boat sailing towards the beach. Moominpappa seemed to have made Moominmamma laugh. 

“Oh, why do you have to go away so soon?” Sniff whined. Snufkin accepted Sniff to start complaining senselessly. Sniff set down the bag he was holding and turned towards his father. “I know! You should stay for another day. Then we can finish that puzzle we were working on.”

“The last puzzle piece is missing. We looked all night for it! I have no clue as to where it could have gone. I looked under the couch and behind it. Your father checked under the carpet and around the table. You even went to check all of your drawers!” The Fuzzy distractedly exclaimed. “I’m very surprised it wasn’t even hiding among the other sets of puzzle pieces.” Sniff was truly like his parents in some ways. The Muddler got back on the real topic at hand. “Your mother and I need to run our pawnshop back in Blackstone Valley. You know this.” Truly clique to their collecting brand.

Sniff pouted.

“We will visit Moominvalley again after midsummer, Sniff. Do not worry,” The Fuzzy reassured. She kissed her son’s forehead, the cake nearly falling from her hands as she did. This didn’t stop Sniff’s disheartened look. “Do you promise?’’

“I promise on my entire button collection. Every single one,” Muddler vowed. Sniff looked at him with very wide eyes. “That’s a lot of buttons!”

“I do promise it quite a lot,” Muddler confirmed. Sniff looked pleased. He looked down at the sand for a moment. Suddenly he shot up and squeezed both of his parents between his small arms. They hugged the boy back; The Fuzzy only hugging with one arm, still balancing the teetering cake, and the remaining bags thrown about the land allowing The Muddler to hold his child.

The boat from the sea was now on the sand. Moominpappa hopped out, giving Moominmamma his hand. “Snufkin, could you help me get your father out? I would, but I don’t favor fish in my bed,” Moominpappa annoyedly said. His father? When had his father aboard the craft? 

Sure enough, upon a closer inspection there lied a mumrik smoking a pipe on the boat's deck. Joxter leapt out abruptly, almost knocking Snufkin over. “Aw, but the fish adore you, my friend” the Joxter cooed. Moominpappa glared at him as he picked up two of the bags off of the ground. The look only served to make Joxter laugh. Joxter picked up the last bag off of the ground.

“Well, I see some tears have already been shed,” Moominmamma observed.

Looking over to Sniff, his eyes were glassy, matching with his parents’. “Yes, but more will be later when The Muddler and Fuzzy come back in the summer,” Little My reminded, attempting to look annoyed. Sniff sniffled. “Well that’s nice to hear you both will be visiting us again so soon,” Moominpappa grunted as he and Joxter set the bags down into the wooden vessel.

“Oh! Moominmamma, I would like your family to have this cake I baked as a thank you gift for inviting us here. It has raisins in it. I thought if anyone doesn’t like raisins they can pick them out.” The Fuzzy handed the blue cake over to Moominmamma. “Thank you, Fuzzy. It looks very delicious,” she thanked while gracefully taking the baked good from The Fuzzy’s clumsy paws.

“Well, I think it is about that time. The boat is packed and ready for sailing,” Moominpappa exclaimed. The Muddler and Fuzzy climbed aboard. After a few more hugs and goodbyes, they set sail on the open ocean. Sniff waved them off until he could no longer see them. Moominmama announced that she would be cutting the cake at Moominhouse and everyone set off to there. Snufkin decided he would stay back to admire the sea for a bit longer. 

Snufkin placed himself on a cliff overlooking the waves. Seagulls crowed above and below him. His hair tickled his neck and cheek. Snufkin brung his attention to the unwinding knot in his stomach. Breathe in; breathe out. Salt invaded his nostrils. Snufkin was shocked when he first heard Sniff would not be leaving with his father. He thought Sniff’s parents made his friend more happy. Whatever Sniff was thinking, he had still decided to stay in Moominvalley, and Snufkin would support that decision. 

It was odd to see his friend cry. It was unlike Sniff to have such emotions. Any strong opinions he had would come out in whiny words, but never tears. Snufkin guessed that was what Sniff was attempting to do at first, but the situation spiraled into a different direction. It’s hard to not cry when your life has been flipped on its head. Snufkin was happy for Sniff and proud of his decisions. 

Dead leaves crunched behind Snufkin. “Mind if I keep you company?” a familiar voice asked.

“I don’t mind.”

Joxter took his stance next to Snufkin, still leaving him room to breath. Joxter didn’t need to look at his son, and neither did Snufkin need to look at his father. Time was spent as cents instead of dollars. The view was priceless and the silence was little cost. The wind picked up and the trees rustle a secret.

“So will you be off soon as well?”

Just as quickly as it started, the wind died down. The end of a wave sent drops rippling through the waters. The gulls alerted that food was on the riptides. 

“I’m not sure,” Joxter said. “Should I?” Joxter raised a brow.

Snufkin was touched that the man considered his opinions on the matter. Snufkin didn’t doubt that if he told his father to leave, he would. Snufkin could get back to his normal living. Things would no doubt be much quieter. But if Joxter was to stay in Moominvalley...

“Stay a little longer,” Snufkin planted out. “You’re not unwelcomed.” 

The seeds were set for a forest. 

The two mumriks stood side by side facing the roaring waves in the ocean. They were sharing a comfortable silence; one that described their many feelings. Both of them staying near one another, seemingly to say, they’re here. The stars couldn’t promise their forever, but the sun promised it’s permanence. This was the night for every day. This was the stem for every flower. This was the shell for every snail. This was the father for every son. It would never take shape of a house. It would never hold a baby. It would never start on chapter one. But hey, progress was progress. Progress held all of the time that was given. It was worth all of the love one could find. 

Joxter smiled at the setting sun. “I’m glad. I don’t fancy leaving anytime soon.”

Little by little, Snufkin would watch their relationship grow. First, sprouting from the soil. Second, growing buds. Thirdly, blossoming petals. Little by little, Snufkin would see his father. On the first day he might find him cooking. On the second he might find him listening. On the third he might find him singing along. Little by little, they would learn to get along.

“No. Not when you’ve just arrived.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think about it. And if you want more from me I might need your comments as motivation:)
> 
> Favorite line: Sniff sniffled. 🥺
> 
> I haven’t looked at this in awhile, so I took some time to proof read it.


End file.
